


Trouble in a Ten Gallon Hat

by epeeblade



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Trouble (Pink Music video)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, punk old west
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those saloon whores were ruthless.</p>
<p>He should know. He was one of them now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble in a Ten Gallon Hat

**Author's Note:**

> First off thanks to lapillus for the last minute beta.
> 
> Second - yes, this is a fanfic for a music video which you can [view here.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFu3YzRnyDU) Go watch the wonder that is ridiculously hot Jeremy Renner as the evil sheriff. Then come back and read this fic.

It turned out that there weren't much in the way of prospects for an ex-sheriff, especially when the gang of idiots keeping him employed had been run out of town by the whirlwind known as Trouble. He was self-aware to know it had been his own damned fault, but even he could be dumb enough to fall for a sweet pair of tits.

Course she'd gone with the wind, just like his crew, and left him in Sharktown with nothing but the pants on his legs. And those he kept on by the skin of his teeth. Those saloon whores were ruthless.

He should know. He was one of them now.

What? The pay was decent, and it wasn't like he minded fucking. These parts most of his customers were lonely women whose men had gone off chasing dreams of gold. There was the occasional man, and that was fine, sometimes even good. None of them looked like the dude who just walked into the saloon.

The stranger wore a pitch black suit, so pristine it was like dust was afraid to land on the fabric. He even held a matching hat, which he laid carefully on the bar before summoning Clive, the bartender.

"What you think, Sheriff? I bet this one'll go straight for you."

Yeah, they still called him that, even though the real Sheriff was a scrawny little asshole the town had imported from Virginia City. It served as a name, worked well with the clients who didn't want to know his real name anyway. He answered to it, just like Sweet Lips and Blossom answered to theirs.

"Just because of the suit?" He laughed at Swallow's words.

He shouldn't have. That laughter drew the stranger's eyes up to the landing. Those were sharp eyes, blue like the ocean he'd never seen. He found he couldn't look away, especially when the stranger smiled and the corners crinkled adorably. 

This might have been a good evening to wear more than the baggy pants that hung low on his hips, showing off the goods. He felt more than a little naked even though he was just missing his shirt. 

"Go for it, sugar, he looks rich." Swallow slipped away, probably back to her room. He'd stopped listening.

The stranger had a few words with Clive, who looked up at the landing and nodded at Sheriff. A paying customer then. He pushed away from the railing and went back to his room to wait. 

It was a shithole done up in red and brown – Clive's idea of whore colors – but this was his shithole. He dropped onto the bed and propped his head up on his hands. If the stranger wanted someone to seduce, he should have picked one of the girls instead.

A gentle knock at the half-open door had him straightening up, but the stranger walked in without so much as a by your leave. He stared at the guy, unable to fight the surge of heat that flared in his belly. It had been a while since he'd had another man and the anticipation had his dick thickening.

"The bartender said you were available." The stranger closed the door with a click that sounded ridiculously loud. Surely nothing could be louder than the way his heart was thumping in his throat.

He stretched to cover the sudden flash of nerves, knowing it showed off his best assets. "That depends. You paid him?"

"I did. Although he did say I was free to tip for exceptional service."

He doubted Clive put it exactly like that. Who the hell was this guy? "Oh, sweetheart, I'm always exceptional."

The stranger didn't comment, but he did start to undo his tie. Sheriff found himself watching those well-manicured fingers and wondered how it would feel to be touched by hands without any calluses. "What should I call you?" 

"They call me Sheriff, love." He got up from the bed and walked slowly across the room, making sure his hips did that little shimmy. "But you can call me whatever you want."

"It'll do." The guy sounded disappointed. "Along those lines I suppose you may address me as Agent."

He let out a low whistle. "You must work for some powerful men, then, to afford that suit." Before he noticed, Sheriff had his hands in the fabric, which felt like silk between his fingers.

Agent moved – fast – circling Sheriff's wrists and squeezing tightly. "Don't touch the suit."

There was steel in his voice. And God help him, but it made Sheriff want to drop to his knees in worship. Instead he just backed up, showing his palms. "Gotcha."

"And strip. I want to see what I've bought for the night."

Fuck. The night? Clive never rented him out for the whole night. Agent must have a shitload of money.

He caught the edge of his fly and pulled it open, sliding the waistband down his hips just enough to tease before sitting on the edge of the bed to undo his boots and kick them off. Then he stood with his back to Agent as he let the pants fall – catching on his pert ass. Curving his hand around his cock – the showpiece of the entire presentation – he whirled, ready for action.

And stopped dead. Agent had taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Beneath that polished exterior he had some muscle on him. This was no pansy ass bureaucrat. But what had Sherrif mesmerized was the fire in those eyes that betrayed the desire caged by those fancy clothes. 

"Do you fuck?" The dirty words shocked him back to life.

He didn't, not usually. But there was something about this man – the power barely restrained by his soft words, his broad shoulders, and the fit body he hid beneath that stitch perfect suit. So he gave the only answer he could, his voice raw and raspy. "Yeah. Yeah, I fuck." To save face he added. "But it'll cost you extra."

A smile flirted with Agent's mouth. "I can afford it."

Course he could. Sheriff picked up the container of oil that he kept by his bedside. It smelled sweet, being as Sweet Lips was the one to make the stuff and she added crap like rose petals and what not. "You want me to prep first?"

"No, no I will do it." The words were almost a growl as Agent took the flask from Sheriff's hands. "Get on the bed and spread your legs."

"Yes, sir." He meant the words as a joke, but they came out a little too honest as he went to kneel on the bed.

"On your back."

He paused. "Won't that make things a little awkward?" Most guys liked to bugger him from behind. Sheriff knew it was because of his ridiculously fine ass.

"Not if you're flexible. Move."

He found himself moving before Sheriff even registered the words. Agent's voice did things to him – made him want to obey. No man had ever done that for him before. 

Laid out on the bed he watched as Agent stripped out of the rest of that fancy outfit, folding it all neatly and putting it on Sheriff's only chair. Then the man stalked across the room, eyes roaming Sheriff's body like it had already been claimed.

Well, hell, maybe it had at that.

Agent's hands were warm and soft, like he'd thought, but they were also firm and so damn sure as they probed between Sheriff's legs. He was no blushing virgin, but doing it like this was more intimate than any encounter he'd had at the saloon. Too damn late to back out now.

At least he could see the way Agent's cock swelled and leaked against his thigh. Despite that cool exterior, he couldn't hide how he wanted. Neither could Sheriff.

"Relax." Agent hooked his hands around Sheriff's knees and pressed them up and back, so Sheriff's ankles were high in the air like a whore on Friday.

He bit back a response to that, unable to speak as his body was slowly, inexorably, filled by that hot, thick dick. Agent's face – only inches from his own – betrayed nothing. If it weren't for the sweat forming on his upper lip, Sheriff would have thought this didn't affect the stranger at all.

Impulsively he reached upward and licked, desperate for a taste. Agent gasped. What did he expect? He was the one who'd pinned Sheriff down like this, with kissable lips just hovering there.

It wasn't like Sheriff could move with the way Agent had him weighted down and spread out. Why shouldn't he get his own back?

"Fine," Agent huffed, before leaning down and claiming Sheriff's lips. This was no damn kiss. This was fierce – mouths and teeth meeting, tongue invading. It left him more out of breath than the fucking.

And then Agent started to move his hips, the motion stealing away whatever breath Sheriff had left. He was being ridden like a horse, unable to do anything but just lie here and take it while Agent pounded in to him, his cock brushing Sheriff's balls with every upward motion. 

Sheriff held on to the sheets, glad he at least had his hands. He made a sound deep in his throat, unable to speak against Agent's mouth. And then Agent moved away to get a better angle and Sheriff threw his head back and gasped. The other man was so fucking deep inside and he managed to do something that set off fireworks.

"Gotta, let me," he was babbling, words that had no meaning as he chased his orgasm. It built in his belly, but never in his life had he come without being touched.

"Come on, Sheriff, show me what you got." The words were like gravel and they scraped him raw. 

He managed to get a hand around, but it didn't take more than a rub before he blew his load between both of their bellies. Agent kept on fucking – probably to prove a point – but even he was just a man. With his own groan Agent spilled deep inside Sheriff, hot seed that seared his insides.

His legs finally freed, Sheriff dropped back onto the bed and Agent collapsed on top of him. "You're wasted in this one horse town."

Sheriff snorted. "This town's got more than just one horse."

"An expression." Agent waved it away. He slid his hand down the sweaty mess of Sheriff's belly and God damn him if his dick didn't twitch. 

"You did say all night?" He tried to make the words flippant, but there was an edge there. Nobody stayed the night.

Agent smiled at him – an actual, real full on smile. Looked like clearing the pipes broke open that ice. "I always get what I pay for. But I bet I'll have you so turned around by morning that you'll be begging to leave town with me."

"That a fact?" This might be the opportunity he'd been waiting for. It wouldn't be a hardship to play along, at least long enough to steal the funds to make a real start. Of course, he'd have to make Agent work for it.

Agent slipped out of bed long enough to retrieve something out of his fancy suit. He twirled a familiar set of metal. "How do you feel about handcuffs?"

No doubt about it – Agent was trouble. Sheriff could see it coming a mile away. But this time, he didn't care.

end


End file.
